


In The Moments Of Our Weakness

by RagingBookDragon



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Father-Son Relationship, Heavy Angst, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:09:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22393789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RagingBookDragon/pseuds/RagingBookDragon
Summary: One mistake after another begins to weigh heavily on Tim's shoulders. It's only a matter of time before the weight overtakes him.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	In The Moments Of Our Weakness

**Author's Note:**

> My favorite type of writing to do is angst. I hope you enjoy my Tim angst! This is from my Tumblr, 'RagingBookDragon'! -Thorne <3

**The entire day had seemed to be one clusterfuck after the other to Tim.**

**First, that morning, accidently running into Alfred as he made his way down the hallway.**

Hands gripped the textbooks tight to his chest, keeping them from falling to the floor as he sprinted from his room. How he’d managed to oversleep, he had no idea. Well…he had some idea; staying up until the ass-crack of dawn would deprive even the best of them of energy. He glanced down at his wrist, checking the time, but in those seconds, he failed to see the man coming his way, and the next thing he knew, he was falling, books flying one direction, silverware clattering in another. He grunted as he hit the ground, immediately glancing over to see what he’d hit. When he saw it, he blanched, apologies tumbling from his lips like water down cascades. _“Oh shi-Alfred I’m sorry. I didn’t see you coming down the hallway. I’m really sorry.”_ The older man sighed, pulling his handkerchief from his pocket to dab at the oatmeal plastered against his chest.

“It’s alright Master Tim. Though I do hope this is a reminder of why we don’t run in the manor.” Tim winced, hands shifting to gather the fallen dishes.

_“Yeah…it is…”_ He held the tray in one hand, offering the other to Alfred; he took it, pulling himself up before he took the tray. _“I’m really sorry about this Alfred.”_ The man gave a smile, resting a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently.

“It’s alright Master Tim.” He removed his hand, nodding at Tim’s books still scattered along the floor. “But if you don’t hurry, you’ll be late for literature.” Tim’s eyes widened and he scrambled for his things, throwing out,

_“Thanks Alfred. And again, sorry!”_ He took off, leaving the older man to shout,

**_“No running!”_**

**Then, when he’d managed to get to class, he almost cried as the teacher began collecting their research essays…something he’d forgotten to do.**

He sighed as he picked up his bag, mind already shifting around what to do his essay on and made his way to the door. He was about five feet away when he heard, “Mr. Drake, a moment please.” Tim grimaced as he turned, walking to the desk his professor sat at; he stopped in front, looking at her.

_“Yes, Professor Nina?”_ She shifted around the essays on the desk then mused,

“I don’t believe you handed a paper forward when I asked for them.” She looked at him. “May I ask where yours is?” Tim opened his mouth, but quickly shut it, then let out a groan and admitted,

_“…I don’t have one Professor.”_ Her expression didn’t change, still showing no amusement as she said,

“You’re usually on top of all your work Tim.” He nodded mutely, keeping quiet as she let out a sigh, pulling her role-book from the side. “I’ll extend the due date two days until next class period. Get it to me either then or before and I’ll still give you credit.” Tim nodded, replying,

_“Thank you, Professor Nina, I really-”_ She held up a hand, her voice firm as she stated,

“Don’t thank me Tim. I’m still docking you fifteen points for it being late.” She frowned at him. “You’ve had over two months to write this and you haven’t even started. I should just give you a zero.” She gathered her things, picking up her purse. “Have a good day Tim. Best start writing now.” Tim watched her leave, exhaling,

_“You too Professor.”_ Despite Bruce being the biggest contributor Gotham University had, the teachers still seemed to rail him just as much as any other student.

**The biggest clusterfuck of all seemed to happen that night during patrol.**

He stood quietly in front of the three body bags, eyes trained on the flashing blue lights around him. Footsteps sounded beside him, but he didn’t look at whoever was now standing next to him; Tim’s voice was soft as he whispered, _“I’m sorry Commissioner.”_ The man hummed, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s not your fault son.” Tim tipped his head to the side, almost as if the words stung him, and he countered,

_“But it was…I wasn’t fast enough to stop Two-Face…and these officers paid the price for it.”_ Gordon frowned, shifting so his body was facing Tim’s.

“Son…it wasn’t your-” Tim cut him off, pointing to the first bag, his voice monotone as he said,

_“Officer Martinez has eight-month-old twins at home.”_ He pointed to the second. _“Officer Olivia and her wife just got married last year.”_ Tim’s hand shifted to the last one. _“Officer Nick and his wife just welcomed their first grandchild.”_ He turned his head to stare at Gordon, his voice full of loathing as he spit, _“I may have not pulled the trigger that killed them, but my incompetence might as well have.”_ Tim swallowed thickly, the emotion rising in his throat, and he shook his head, muttering, _“I need to report back to Batman, Commissioner…I’ll leave them to you.”_ He shook the hand off his shoulder, feet heavy as lead as he took each step away from the crime scene.

**Everything boiled down to the moment in the cave as he stood at the Batcomputer, watching the information roll across the screen, the voices of his siblings in the background.**

“Hey Timberly, are you coming?” He grunted at Jason’s voice and replied,

_“You guys go ahead…I’m gonna stay and do some more reports.”_ A sigh sounded from behind, and Dick rested his hand on Tim’s back.

“Timmy…what happened to those officers wasn’t your fault.” He shook his head, stepping away from Dick’s hand.

_“I’m fine Dick…don’t worry about me.”_ Before Dick could respond, a scoff echoed through the cave.

“Well no one does anyway. Honestly it’s surprising that you couldn’t stop Two-Face.”

**“Damian, stop.”** Bruce’s voice was firm, but Tim paid it no mind, agreeing,

_“Yeah Damian, I know.”_

“I almost wonder why Grandfather thinks you are such a good detective, but you couldn’t even save three officers from a simple trap.”

“Hey Short-Stack, can it, would you?” Damian grunted, glancing at Jason.

“What, I’m just reminding Drake what happens when you fail. Isn’t that right Drake?” Tim’s lips curled, but he bit his cheek, muttering,

_“I know.”_

“Really, how did you not save them? It couldn’t have been that hard. You are obviously-” Something inside Tim snapped and he whirled around, baby-blue eyes wide with anger as he exploded,

**_“I KNOW DAMIAN! I KNOW I FUCKED UP TONIGHT! I KNOW THEY DIED BECAUSE I WASN’T FAST ENOUGH! I KNOW!”_** He took a step towards the boy, placing a hand against his chest. **_“DO YOU HONESTLY THINK I LIKE MAKING GIANT FUCK-UPS THAT END UP WITH THREE DEAD OFFICERS WHOSE FAMILIES HAVE NO ONE TO BLAME BUT ME?! I KNOW THEIR DEATHS ARE ON MY HANDS! I’M GONNA CARRY IT WITH ME FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE THAT I WASN’T QUICK ENOUGH TO SAVE THEM!”_** He didn’t even realize that the tears were falling down his cheeks until he heard,

“…Timmy…” His eyes darted to Dick’s, who’s were full of sympathy. Tim reached up, wiping furiously at the wet warmth, taking a step backwards; his foot twisted behind him, and he went to his knees, hands covering his face as he sobbed,

**_“I’m so tired…I’m just so…tired…”_** He wept into his hands, the tears streaming down his face through his fingers, and sucked in a breath, lamenting, **_“I’m so tired of fighting, when all I want to do is breakdown…”_** A hand rested on his shoulder, and a voice followed quietly,

_“Dick, take the others upstairs.”_ Bruce’s arms wound around Tim, pulling him to his chest, one hand rubbing his back, the other holding his head as he rested his chin on it. _“It’s okay Tim…Let it out.”_ The boy seemed to curl in on himself as he gripped his father’s shirt, bawling like a child who’d lost his favorite toy. Bruce simply held him, whispering kind and understanding words, his thumb gently rubbing against Tim’s head; Tim sniffled, choking out,

**_“…I’m…sorry…Bruce…”_** His father hummed, tucking Tim’s head under his chin.

_“It wasn’t your fault Tim.”_

_**“But…I…”**_ Bruce shook his head, holding Tim tighter to him, his voice comforting, yet firm as he stated,

_“It wasn’t your fault son.”_ More tears welled in Tim’s eyes, and he clenched them shut, burying his face in Bruce’s shirt, weeping quietly. An hour or so later, the two still sat on the floor, Tim’s head still tucked safely beneath Bruce’s chin, his arms still wound around him; Tim inhaled through his nose as he shifted, murmuring,

**_“…Sorry…”_** Bruce shook his head, letting Tim leave his embrace; the boy settled a couple inches away, and Bruce assured,

_“It’s alright Tim.”_ He reached up, rubbing his thumb under Tim’s eye, his voice solemn as he said, _“Tim, what happened to those officers isn’t on you. You understand that, don’t you?”_ It took Tim a moment, but he nodded mutely, then admitted,

**_“…If I’d just been faster, I could’ve saved them though…”_** Bruce nodded, moving his hand to Tim’s shoulder.

_“Tim. Look at me.”_ When he didn’t, Bruce squeezed his shoulder, and he drew his gaze to his fathers; Bruce stared at him, affirming, _“One of the worst downsides to this job is the knowledge that sometimes we can’t save them all.”_ His son dropped his gaze, but Bruce shifted, gently raising his chin, and declared, _“But what you’ve got inside you is what is gonna keep you going…you’ve gotta believe in that son.”_ Tim tipped his head to the side, eyes shutting tight as he fought the tears away, whispering,

**_“…But how? How do I do that when I stand before three twenty-one-gun salutes knowing what I know? Knowing that if I’d-”_** Bruce cut him off, pressing his finger against his chest.

_“You vow to do better. To keep their memory alive and make sure their deaths weren’t in vain.”_ Bruce pulled his hand away, placing it on Tim’s head. _“You make sure that what happened to them doesn’t repeat itself with anyone else. That’s how you do it.”_ Tim stared at his father, then exhaled and nodded.

**_“…I understand.”_** Bruce lowered his hand, rising from the floor.

_“I’d ask if you want to come upstairs, but I think you’d rather stay in here for a while.”_ Tim huffed a laugh and nodded, watching as Bruce started to walk off; he called out to him.

**_“Bruce?”_** He spun around, looking at Tim.

_“Yes?”_ Tim swallowed and stood up, deciding,

**_“I want to open a charity for the families of the fallen officers…I know it won’t bring them back…but their service won’t be forgotten.”_** Bruce observed Tim for a moment, then gave a satisfied smile.

_“That sounds like a good plan Tim.”_ He nodded at him. _“Don’t stay down here all night, okay?”_ Tim nodded, watching as he walked off, murmuring,

**_“Thanks dad.”_ **


End file.
